


Between fronts

by catfisher



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Angst, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hence the title, Love/Hate, Smut, obviously, oh and some, so basically just the books from murtagh and nasuadas pov, sort of a love story, spiced with my sick imagination, they are on different sides of a war after all, this all sounds way more dramatic than it is I promise, with a lot of mixed emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10052570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfisher/pseuds/catfisher
Summary: Distrustful strangers form a fragile bond which is threatened to be broken apart by a raging war, that forces them to fight on opposing fronts. Is it impossible to fall in love with the enemy ?





	1. Two strangers and a dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a translation (and improved version) of my own story that I posted on german fan-fiction-side from 2 years ago. I recently found it in my old files and because I was bored I decided to rewrite it and post it here. Because I was younger when I originally wrote it, I changed a lot more than I thought, but well. 
> 
> I will continue uploading it, if anyone is interested. I honestly have no idea how alive this fandom is, but we'll see. 
> 
> For now have fun with the first chapter!! xx

TWO STRANGERS AND A DRAGON 

Nasuada's face was pressed against the cold wood of her fathers door, as the young women desperately attempted to pick up on the words that were spoken inside. Her blood was pumping loud in her own ears, making it even harder to overhear anything said. She tried to calm herself down, but the shock and the elation were still too fresh, warming her heart and making her jittery.

They had arrived in Tronjheim this morning, instantly swarmed by every dwarf, man, women and child that lived under the mountain. Nasuada had been one of them of course, she had left the raised platform were the eldest council and the other high ranging officers of the Varden had waited and fought her way through endless bodies until she had stood in the very front. There, pressed between sweaty bodies, she had awaited them impatiently. Nasuada had read many books, countless description and studied every drawing in the great dwarf library, yet nothing could have prepared her for the majestic appearance of the dragon. He was simultaneously the most beautiful and fearsome creature Nasuada had ever seen.  
Picturing the deadly claws and the ravishing shining scales of the creature made her shiver in awe, even thinking back now. She had been so enraptured by the azure beast, it had taken her a little while to even notice the young rider on the his back. He was clearly astonished by the raging welcome, shyly smiling into the crowd. Dragon and Rider were both bathing in thrown flowers, hopeful cries and tears of joy. After the initial shock they both greeted back in their own way – one by prancing threw them with swelled nostrils and shimmering eyes and the other with hesitant waves and pink ears. Nasuada only noticed the second man, as the dragon had already almost passed her. He was walking behind his companions, skillfully avoiding the waving dragons-tail. While everyone was smiling and clapping, his face was a cold mask, harsh lines marking it. He looked as if this celebration parade was the his own funeral march. It made her halt for a second, but wasn't enough to distract her from the shimmering dragon for long. 

Now – standing outside her fathers rooms like a scorned child that was once again not aloud to listen when the grownups were talking – she felt her excitement turn into impatient suspense. It had been hours and the dragon had probably already been let to his chamber to rest and her father was now discussing their arrival and everything they had told him with his advisors. She wanted to be among them so badly it hurt. 

She was a grown women that had lived threw the terrors of fleeing from her home at a young age that grew up among warriors, learned to fight and think like one. More than that, she had studied all her life how to probably argue and communicate, was fluent in almost five languages and was the heir of one of the greatest leaders the Varden had ever had and still she was banned to wait in empty corridors. Were she a man her father would let her inside to learn and observe, but instead she was still treated like a naïve girl to stupid to understand political conversations. It was was infuriating as it was embarrassing. And a faint but still sharp coughing behind her, made that fact even more obvious.

She tried not to shriek at the shock of suddenly facing one of the twins, that had somehow sneaked up on her. Nasuada wasn't easily cowed, but in the presence of the to pale magicians she always felt a bit weary. She knew that many among the Varden feared them for their extraordinary powers, but they weren't the cause of her distrust. Nasuada was actually very interested in the art of magic, had even lamely attempted to learn it herself even though her short temper had set an untimely end that endeavor. No, it was something else in their calculating eyes that made her somewhat averse of them. It wasn't helping that even they already knew more about the newcomers that Nasuada did. In fact, it made her blood boil. 

“My lady, your father has instructed me to ask you, to no longer dwell in this haughty corridors. He fears for your health in this cold”, the men twanged expression almost gleeful. Nasuada felt her face heat up, she was as always thankful that it wasn't visible on her. She was being send away like a delicate flower about to crumble in the wind, while only meters away the future of her people and fate of the whole world was discussed.  
She couldn't imagine a graver horror.  
With a barely suppressed hiss in the direction of the magician, she turned on her heal sweeping away her expensive garment flattering behind. 

Nasuada was muttering crude insults all the way up to her chambers and as she reached them, she crashed the door behind her so harshly her poor servant almost dropped the fresh bowl of water that she was about set atop the bedside table. 

“Mistress are you unwell ?” The women breathed startled at her wild, distraught appearance. She was already dipping a cloth in the bowl holding it up, probably wanting to cool Nasuada forehead with it. But being cradled like an infant, would only add insult to injury right know, so she fixed her servant with cold glare that made her halt.

“I am fine, get out I want to alone right now.” Her words were harsher than she had meant for them to be and she wasn't normally rude. Especially not to Felicia since she often thought very fondly of the old women. But Nasuada didn't want anyone – including her servant – to see her like this.  
Not in control of her temper. Sulking like the child, as that she was treated. 

After a while of walking in circles still trying to calm her raging thoughts, that were flitting from dragons to cold doors, she halted in front of her bronze mirror. 

It was a rareness to posses one, and hers was almost as tall and wider than herself, capturing all of her appearance. Nasuada had only seen two other reflecting glasses in private chamber in all of the Varden folk. She had been told, that even in the Imperium mirrors were a precious luxury kept only for the nobility and the richest merchants. Here, in a city full of refugees that had fled there home some without even bringing a spare pair of boots, it was her one of biggest treasures. A name day present from Hrothgar, that the dwarf king had found in one if his seemingly endless faults. And that she held very dearly even though her father always warned her not to care to much about earthly possessions, in case she had to give them up. But living in the capitol of dwarfs whose only pleasure seemed to be putting their axes in skull and stone or harboring shining objects, it was hard to not appreciate the beauty of the present. 

Even though she didn't like what she was seeing in it right now. A young women in a fancy dress, indignantly staring back at her. 

Her brown skin was darker than that of most Varden, and probably one of the reasons she was often looked at, although she wore it with pride since it showed the connection to her father. Her heritage was of a powerful warrior folk and Ajihad had taught her to always remember and honor her roots, even though she wasn't technically part of the clans or obliged there religion. The skin wasn't the problem she thought, it was her face.  
It was to well-proportions, her eyes too almond colored and her lips too soft. Nasuada wasn't a vain person but she knew that she was somewhat beautiful, if not for the jealous looks she often got from other women. And beauty in on itself wasn't a problem – thinking of the Arya the most beautiful creature that Nasuada had ever seen – who was radiating nothing but force. That elf would never be left outside locked doors. But something about Nasuada face made men in the best case want to protect and in the worst case attempt to indecently assault her.  
Her sweet features and female figure were undermining her authority and she was angrily blaming them for her current state of unsatisfied curiosity.  
That's when she realized that she was being a immature, pouting about how unfair everything was instead of taking matter into her own hand. Since when did she need to have her father confide her, in order to find out secrets.  
Suddenly cheerful again she grabbed the dark, simple rope she used when she didn't want to be recognized. She wasn't going to sit in her room like good little girl all day, while everyone else was celebrating the news. Not when she could just as easily find out everything on her own.

 

“Orik!” she called out, as soon as she had reached the gambling table. The dwarf looked exhausted but very content nursing a mug of met and some pork talking to some of his companions. 

“Ah Nasuada, I already wondered when you would show up”, the dwarf said sounding amused and slightly inebriated.

“I am sad to hear that my actions are that transparent to you", that made Orik bark out a throaty laughter, as he hived himself up. 

“Your never, don't worry but I figured I would have something to tell, to quench that endless thirst for tidings in you. Come lets walk a bit, need to clear my head anyway.” 

Nasuada was glad that she had made friends with the dwarf, since he was often the only one she could be herself around and that was actually making the formal dinners that she was frequently forced to attend a bit more bearable. As Hrothgards stepson, he was ranked high enough to talk to her as an equal, but not to self-important to treat her as less. But aside from genuinely enjoying his company a rugged manner, he always had interesting stories to tell. Like now. Orik had been there when the dragonrider had appeared at the secret gate and had heard all lot from them first hand. He told her all his impressions of Eragon and Saphira and Nasuada hung on his lips, greedily taking in every little detail her friend remembered. Orik grunted satisfied when he talked about his clash with the twins. 

“Your father has been very kind and cunning to punish me for intertwining like that”, he smiled into the met jug he had broad along. Nasuada that wasn't feeling so fondly about Ajihad at the moment, so she just nodded keeping her grumbling to herself. She was about to leave the poor dwarf to his well deserved break, when something popped into her head.

“Thank you for indulging me, Orik. I'll leave you to your gambling soon, but just one last question: Who was the other men, riding with Eragon and Saphira?”

Orik suddenly looked harder, less euphoric. His thick eyebrows crowded together. 

“That was Murtagh Morzansson”, he growled disapprovingly.

“What ?" She hadn't expected that. "I heard rumours but, I didn't know that Morzan really had a son. Did the dragonrider capture him ?” Nasuada asked, hungry for more information. 

The dwarf was gnawing on his teeth, disapproval written clearly all over his face.  
“Mm, no. He was accompanying them as a friend after helping to free Eragon and Arya from Gil'ead. But he refused to let twins look into his mind and make his intentions clear, so your father had to lock him up for now.” 

Before they could discuss it further, Orik was called by a couple of voices from the other room to finally return to their table so they could proceed their game. 

Nasuada thanked him again and parted with a smile after promising to join him for the dwarf games some other time. 

Hurrying away she was thinking about every exiting thing she had just heard. Orik had told her that they had arranged for Saphira to sleep on top of the city in the old dragon holes. Even if Nasuada would have managed to get in their unnoticed, she would still be interrupting a currently sleeping dragon. Which was probably not good idea. Both dragon and rider were resting and hard to get to. So Nasuada had a different idea. 

She was going to find Morzan's son. She remembered his sour expression at the parade and it made sense now, seeing as he must have known that he was walking into imprisonment. But if he really helped Eragon he couldn't be completely evil. It was weird to say the least that he would sacrifice his freedom for them.  
Meeting that angry looking stranger, somehow seemed even more interesting that the young boy sitting atop a dragon now. 

Since he had been the Eragon's companion not his captive Ajihad probably not thrown him into the cells, but still kept in chamber secure enough to keep a skilled warrior. 

There were only a couple places that could be and Nasuada had a pretty good idea were to start. On her way to down to the place she expected them to keep him she had to cross almost half the town. Hiding her face behind the rough martial of her cape, she made it threw all the still buzzing crowds of dwarfs and humans celebrating the arrival of a new hope. She had to walk almost half an hour until she reached the passage way to the hidden chamber, but it seemed like it had been worth it. There were to guards in front of the normally abandoned door. A small, triumphant smile fought its way onto her lips. She knew her farther well, to well for him to keep her form finding secret prisoners.  
As she got closer to the two soldiers, one of them straighten his lance at her. 

“Be gone wrench, nobody is supposed to lurk around here”, he exclaimed evidently enjoying his superior position. Purposely slowly she lowered the hood from hidden face. It very satisfying to see the men blanch as he recognized her. 

In the most dangerously cold voice she could mange she advised: “Be very careful what you say next, soldier.”

He seemed to startled to answer, so the other one spoke up slightly nervous. 

“My Lady! He didn't mean to insult you, please forgive my comrade. But – but your father left very clear instructions not to let anyone near the prisoner and-” 

“Yes, I am very well of aware of my fathers instructions. In fact, it was Ajihad himself who send me hear to talk to him.” The two of the shared a worried look. 

“Very well, I shall accompany you”, the second guard finally relented. Nasuada had no intentions to let him listen to her investigations.

“I am to speak with the prisoner alone”, she therefore insisted sticking out her chin. 

“But-” the men seemed very uncertain, and Nasuada planned on using that against him. 

“Are you going to refuse an direct order from you leader and commander ?” She insisted, feigning mystification. 

“Of course, not my lady. You may enter. Knock three times on the door, when you want to leave. And-”, at that he hesitated shortly “be careful, he is a very dangerous men.” She was to excited to properly heat his warning. 

“Don't interrupt us”, she instructed while sliding inside.

 

 

Murtagh furiously kicked away the first to pieces of furniture in his way and the wall was the next target of his wrath. As his knuckles painfully connected with the hard stone he yelped in pain and anger over his own stupidity. Because there really was now one left to blame but him, that he was now in this idiotic plight. 

How could he have been so foolish to follow that darn boy until the very end and actually run into the arms of the Varden. Now he was imprisoned in a city with kilometers of rocks separating him from the sky and filled with people that hated him for his father. He should have never ridden into that dammed desert, should have never even helped Eragon at all. That clueless moron and his dragon had dragged him along, making him yearn for adventure and filling him with a unreasonable sense of duty. He had come to care for the boy, had been to caught up. And now look were it had got him. Caged, once again. And this time probably for good. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

It took him another half an hour and the destruction of multiple chairs to calm down a bit and look around him more clearly. Only now he realized that his cell was looking more like a comfortable chamber without any windows. Not noting the destruction he had induced the room looked sort of nice and homey. There was a relatively big bed, a drawer, a dining table, a chest with filled with plain garments, a small bath area hidden behind a little nook and even a old but beautiful carpet. Somehow all these items felt even more insulting and demeaning ,as if they had put him in their darkest hole to be eaten by rats. 

He wasn't a guest, and treating him like one made it even more painfully obvious somehow. It was almost like he was back in the capitol, showered in finery, gold and women – but never allowed to leave. 

Suddenly exhausted he dropped onto the bed – begrudgingly glad about it's softness after weeks and weeks of sleeping on cold ground. There was nothing left for him but hope for a dreamless sleep, when he heard voices outside. 

Immediately alert he raised up, prepared for what ever was to come. The door opened shortly after and a slim figure slid inside, closing behind her. Grimly he faced the devilish person the twins had surely send to break him.  
It was a women, he quickly realized, as she took of the dark rope she wore over her silky, expensive looking dress. She was undeniably an exquisite beauty. With her smooth, dark skin and unusually bright eyes. But it made him even more weary of her, since he had learned from a young age never to trust a pretty face. One of the rare perks of growing up at court. 

The women didn't seem to notice his hostile demeanor at all. She carelessly dropped her rope on one of the chairs he had thrown against the door earlier and that was now lying there a bit abandoned.

“I see you have already become accustomed to your quarters”, she quipped her dark eyes shimmering mischievously.  
He was not going to humor this strange intruder. Murtagh wasn't a man for games and it was important that the twins or whoever send her realized that as fast as possible. 

“Who are you?” he barked at her, hoping to make that amused expression slide of her pristine little face.  
It had the opposite effect, as she started smiling and looking even more blazingly curious. 

“My name is Nasuada, Daughter of Ajihad. And you are Murtagh, son of Morzan and outside your door stands Dorad, son of Faladir – I think – but I would have to ask him again. Now that everyone has been introduced politely ...” her face remained almost neutral, only a little smirk twitching around her mouth was betraying her. He should have recognized her, same dark skin and arrogant stance as her father. Of course Adjihad would send his stunning daughter to make fun of him and taunt him until eternity. Murtagh felt the strong urge to kick a chair again.

“And what do you want?”, he gritted out between his teeth. It made tend her head a little bit to the side, as if she was honestly thinking about it. 

“Meet you, I guess. I was just curious after everything that happened today and sneaking in here was much easier than climbing to the top of the mountain and breaking into a dragons sleeping chamber.” She was smiling again, this time a tat self-conscious. “And less dangerous, I reckon.”

So Murtagh had become the newest attraction, had he ? Interesting to observe and poke at like a bloody dancing bear on a leash. He didn't care whose daughter she was, he wanted to get rid of that nosy bitch. It was time for her to leave and not come back. 

“You reckon ?” he asked slowly walking towards her, until they were barely an arm length apart. Close up, she seemed even more fragile and delicate, but didn't budge – even as he was threateningly looming over her. 

“You do know that the walls are made of thick stone, right ? They probably wouldn't hear you scream.” Than he started grinning himself, only with sharp teeth and mean eyes. He lowered his voice, as if he confiding her in a secret: “And even if they did – I think I can probably finish off a little girl like you before those two morons out there find their key.” 

Nasuada was looking up at him through her thick lashes, eyes unblinking. Any second now she was probably gonna start crying and run outside as fast as her legs could carry her, Murtagh thought gleefully. But as the second went on and she did no such thing, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I agree.” She than said, taking a step back and walking further into the room. Murtagh was left to stare dumbfounded at her back. 

“What?” 

“I agree”, she repeated turing around flashing another smile. “They probably wouldn't hear me scream, but that's not an issue – because I won't anyway. You wouldn't hurt me.” 

“You are foolish bordering on suicidal then?” he asked, incredulous. It was true, that he wasn't going to hurt her – he just wanted her scared and gone so that he could calmly brood in his misery. But there was no reason she would know that.

“Even if you were as cruel and viscous as your father – which by the way I don't think you are since you have been nothing but a friend to dragon and rider, helping to bring them here safely – killing or hurting me wouldn't be very beneficial for you. Adjihad hasn't made a final decision what to do with you for the long term and attacking his only daughter surly wouldn't make the outcome more positive, so-” at that she interrupted herself picking up another chair, sitting down. 

“I won't take up to much of your time, I promise. I just want to talk for a bit.”

Murtagh had met a lot of people that he now considered enemies today. But this one with her cutting logic and her softly inquiring eyes was the worst, he decided. 

“I'm not telling you anything. So you might as well leave now.” He said coldly and – since there was nothing else left to do – set back on the bed. 

“Not even how you meet Eragon and Saphira ?” Nasuada asked. 

“If you want answers, your going to have to torture me for them. So, just leave.” 

He had thrown an arm over his face so he wasn't tempted to look at her face, somehow he didn't want to see the disappointment.  
“There is no harm in telling me that, you know.” She defended herself, sounding less confident than before. He remained still, but it sounded like she was pouting. 

“Leave.” 

After a while there was a bit a of rustling and than three small knocks.  
He listened to the door close behind her, but he didn't raise his arm until he fell asleep hours later.


	2. Unwelcome guests

UNWELCOME GUESTS

Murtagh spend six plain meals and two longer sleep periods in the little room, without anything happening. He had already explored all the nooks and examined every brick of the unbudging wall for a way out. Not that he would come very far, but he owed to himself to at least look. And anyway he had little else to do. Eragon hadn't even visited once, and he began to wonder if he wasn't allowed to or if his friend had already forgotten about him, caught up in being cherished and admired by the Varden. Murtagh tried to believe the first, but being locked op in solitude made him bitter and angry. He caught himself cursing the other man for leaving him in this misery.  
But his rage turned more and more into boredom. With every senseless turn around his room, with every tasteless piece of bread he swallowed, with every spider he killed until there wasn't even vermin left to keep him company.  
After the escaping from the capitol and travelling with a dragon for weeks, every minute wasted this hole disguised as room, made him feel more depressed and useless. He even missed being chased by Urgals, at least then he had had an escape from his thoughts. Alone in this silence, his own head was becoming the worst enemy.  
It seemed that his life was nothing more than a never-ending circle off flight and imprisonment. From Morzan's cruel hands and servants that feared him, to being held by the kings like a pet in a golden cage, surrounded by strangers that sucked the life out of anything living and real. Even after breaking out of the palace he had been nothing but a lost stray, constantly running. And here he was, back to being a prisoner. Only now there was no wine, no music. Nothing but dust and dead flies. 

He was pulled out of his constant brooding lethargy by a curt knock on the door, that was shortly after pushed open an revealed a staple of scrolls almost completely hiding Nasuada's slim figure behind them. Against his will, he was glad to see her. Anything – and anyone was a welcome distraction from the nothingness that had taken over his spirit. 

“Good morning, I hope you slept well,” she chirped trying very hard to seem polite. He knew that being genuine wasn't something nobility often excelled at and Adjihad's offspring was clearly no exception. 

“I figured that you might get awfully bored, with nothing to do all day. So I brought you something to pass the time”, Nasuada concluded smiling proudly at her own idea and ignoring his sarcastic snort, as she dropped the scrolls on the table. 

Murtagh's mind was so languid, he would be glad to get to read tax records at this point. But he didn't want her to know that and how welcome her gifts were.  
Especially since she was just trying to get into his good graces to get him to tell all his devious secrets and open his mind to the twins. And she wasn't even trying to be inconspicuous about it. Blunt curiosity hadn't done the trick the last time, so now she was attempting ingratiation. Murtagh wasn't going to fall for it. But it couldn't hurt to keep her around for a bit longer than last time, just to have something to pass the the time. 

“I wasn't sure what kind of stories you'd be interested in. That's why I brought a little bit of everything. But if you have a special wish I can still get that for you – the dwarfs have a giant library it is incredible-...” She looked truly excited at that, even younger than she had the last time, more sweet and relaxed. It was strangely irritating. 

“Why exactly are you bringing me scrolls?” he finally interrupted her, aiming for a harsh tone but it came out more exhausted than anything.

“Told you. Because I thought you might be bored.” Than she hesitated a second, sheepishly rubbing her nose. 

“And also – I guess – to apologize for my behavior two days ago. I was just so excited and no one would tell-... well, you had already made it clear that you didn't want to talk to anyone here. I my curiosity was out of place and I must have came across as a prying intruder. Believe me, that wasn't my intention at all.”

He didn't know what to say and Nasuada grew visibly more uncomfortable, as the silence stretched on. Her apology seemed earnest, but that had to mean nothing. Murtagh had met many excellent lairs and even though he prided himself with having a good instincts in gauging characters, even he couldn't always tell a persons true intentions. So he just raised an eyebrow at her, enjoying her apparent unease. It didn't really matter to him how earnest she was, he was surrounded by enemies in this town. At least this one brought him gifts and tried to be nice. That didn't make him trust her, but he accepted her effort.

“Please except the scrolls as a part of my apology I hope you will like them”, the young women finally added stiffly, already slowly retreating backwards. 

“Well, that depends”, he smirked making her halt.  
Murtagh wasn't done with her yet, seeing as she was apparently the only one that seemed to take any interest in him and he wasn't sure he was even going to get any other visitors. 

“On what ?” Nasuada asked, wary of his sudden change in mood. 

“Let us see what you brought me and I'll decide if the scrolls a worth forgiving the mortal insult of stabbing a man already in chains with nosiness.” 

A little smile broke through her frown. At least she understood sarcasm. That was definitely a good thing, seeing as Murtagh wasn't able to communicate without it. 

“Well, I hope you will be at least a bit appeased.” Than the mischievous glint in her eyes returned: “But I would have to question your wit, if you disliked this one.”

She fished a small, simply bound handbook out of the mess on the table. The soft, brown leather of it's outer shell looked fostered, but overused by loving fingers gripping it again and again for many years. 

“A bard's mute canary, it's the one book I have devoured at least a hundred times. Only a blind man wouldn't appreciate it's brilliance.” 

Murtagh never read much when he was younger, only the scrolls Tornac had made him study. He had always preferred entertaining himself with archery and sword fighting rather than sticking his nose into dusty pages. But by some giant coincidence, he already knew this particular story. He had found A bard's mute canary between his teachers things one day, when he was send to fetch a quiver. He had been so awed by the beautiful golden drawings on the cover of Tornac's version, that the old man had ceded him the book.  
After that he had felt obliged to read it and he had been surprised by the fire of interest it had ignited in him. Sadly he had to leave it behind, when he flew the capitol since he was only able to bring the bare necessities. But he remembered the words well.  
It was a gruesome, sad story of a bard who has everything he ever loved taken from him, finally shaping all his pain into becoming a cruel and heartless fighter that destroys everything in his path to get back the ones he lost. Only to realize he could have saved his family by simply being kind and that his actions drove them away forever. 

He was surprised that Nasuada cherished this particular book, considering all the violence and suffering that it portrait. It made him reluctantly reevaluate her.

“Quite the dark tale for such a sweet looking, privileged girl like yourself”, he grinned hoping to get an explanation. But for some reason that made her features harden. 

“Not everyone should be judged by their looks, or their heritage for that matter. You off all people should know that Murtagh Morzansson.” She said, eyes cold somehow looking down at him even though he was two heads taller. Murtagh gritted his teeth at the young women. All the his boredom and mild curiosity vanished at once, replaced by anger. 

For someone proclaiming she thought he was nothing like his father mere days ago, she sure was fast to play that card the first opportunity she got. Reminding him of his standing. He had to be careful not to forget that she was just as false and condescending as everyone else here. Just like Adjihad who liked to play the benevolent host even though he was nothing more than a jailer holding a man prisoner, because he wasn't willing to open his mind and his secrets to his enemies. 

“Do you want me to forget that you and your father are currently stealing my freedom, just because I am the son of a men long dead, that I barley knew ?” He asked angrily making her retreat until her back almost hit the door. 

She said nothing, maybe out of surprise. Somehow it made his blood boil even more. 

He almost screamed, feeling all his rage and pent up frustration taking over. 

“Do you want me to be thankful, that Adjihad has send you to gloat and spy on me ?”

For the first time he saw something close to concern in her eyes as closed in on her, continuing to snarl hateful words into her little face. 

“Does he really think, that he can get me to let my mind violated by these vultures he calls his servants, just because his whore of a daughter flashes a pretty smile at me and swings her tits around my prison?” 

Her flat hand struck him harder than expected but he didn't retreat, remaining only a couple of feet away from her eyes filled with sudden disgust. 

“Call me a whore once more, and I'll make sure you'll never see the light of the day again”, she said calmly – but so cold it almost made him shiver. 

Before he could retort she swirled around, knocking against the door to signal the guards.  
He grabbed a heavy looking book and threw it after her, as soon as the gate closed. It produced a loud bang against the strong wood that echoed around the room. 

Murtagh wanted to be glad to be rid of her, but he felt unreasonable remorse gnawing on his stomach instead. Angry at himself he proceeded to rampage, until his prison looked as if it was struck by a blizzard. 

 

“The last time I saw you this furious was as I banned you from the library, because you kept painting on the ancient pages. When you were nine.” Adjihad chuckled as he laid eyes on his daughter. He had sent for Nasuada to come to his office, and she could barley stop herself smashing the door behind her when she entered. Her thoughts were still lingering on the unbelievable rudeness of Morzan's son and it did nothing for her bad mood, hat her father was now making fun of her temper. If she only were as cool headed as the Varden's leader. Nasuada was disappointed, because she was clearly way to impulsive and easily touched. She shouldn't let the insulting words of some prisoner get to her like that. Half of her distress originated from her own weak reaction. 

“I don't want to discuss it”, she said before he could inquire the cause of her affliction.

It was enough, that she had been alleged to be an inelegant spy and called a whore today. She didn’t want her father lecturing about secretly visiting Murtagh. 

“Your not still cross with me for not letting you join my talk with the dragon rider the other day. Please understand that I didn't mean to insult you, I simply didn't want to overexert the boy by having to tell his story for to many strangers.” 

Nasuada smiled at her fathers earnest concern.  
“Don't worry. For some reason I thought you let all your advisors join and only excluded me. The only thing I am cross with, is that you keep ending up being reasonable and right and I am the one acting childish. Even though I should know better.” 

Adjihad smiled, eyes twinkling as he patted his daughters head. 

“I guess that's what parents are for. But I never think of you as childish. In fact I am very proud of the cunning, bright women you have become. It is a good thing, that you crave to be involved that much. For one day I expect you take my place and lead our people.” 

His words warmed Nasuada's heart and made her forget all about today's disaster.  
“And I promise I will tell you every detail of Eragons adventures, even though I suspect you have already drenched poor Orik for everything he knew”, he said still smiling, as Nasuada felt her cheeks heat up.

“But I unfortunately have little time today. The twins are demanding changes in security measures for the entrance and the council is breathing down my neck as always. If I don't pay them a visit soon, I am positive they will come baring in here any minute now ready to strike me down with their rolled up trading-agreement scroll.” 

“Well, we wouldn't want that. Would be a shame about the beautiful agreement getting your blood smeared all over it.” Nasuada grinned. That made Adjihad emit one of his rare, throaty laughter's. 

“Spoken like a true, loving daughter of mine. So since I don't have much time, I thought you might be happy to bring this message from me to Eragon, who his currently holding up in the dragonhort.”  
Nasuada knew, that he could have send any messenger but he wanted to give her a opportunity to get to know dragon and rider. She tilted her head in thankfulness. 

“It would be my pleasure father”, she smiled. “Anything else ?”

“Yes actually. I don't know if Orik told you this already, but our two guests brought Morzan's son with them. I had to lock him up, because he won't allow the twins to make sure he isn't working for the king or has any other harmful intentions.” At the mention of his name, Nasuada felt her stomach hurt in shame again as Adjihad talked on.

“But truthfully, Eragon has assured me that he was a companion to him and even saved him from the shade Durza.” Nasuada knew off the past her father and Durza had. Her father had barley made it out alive at their last encounter and he was the most skilled warrior Nasuada knew. So she was stunned to learn that Murtagh and Eragon had faced him as well. Adjihad continued, without letting her interrupt for more details.

“I don't wish to have him locked up any longer, especially because this might anger the dragonrider and I don't want that boy holding a grudge against me and the Varden. At sundown I will visit him and ask him once again to cooperate. I was hoping you might join me, for I think it's important that you learn to face such delicate, somewhat unsolvable and political problem.” 

Nasuada had no desire to ever lay eyes on that rude man again, nor did she think her presence would be becoming to her fathers agenda. But she knew, that even though Ajihad had spoken kindly, it wasn't so much a suggestion as it was an order and she couldn't refuse him. Not without confessing her pervious encounters with Murtagh and even than she wasn't sure to get out of this predicament. There was nothing left for her to do, but bow her head and accept to meet her father later. Ajihad seemed appeased and released her to deliver his message to the dragonrider. 

She became more displeased, with every step she climbed up to the dragonhort. And there were seemingly endless.  
Her first visit had been rash and foolish, her head still clouded by her excitement. She had brooded about it for two days, coming to the conclusion that she should apologize for her behavior. That had lead to her delivering the scrolls. Everything had seemed to work out well, and she had already thought the matter settled, when that deranged bastard had suddenly flipped and started yelling at her.  
She understood now, why he had been so apprehensive and hostile. He suspected her to work for the twins and her father to gain his trust – something that hadn't even crossed her mind. But know she was forced to return on Ajihad side for that precise reason.

It shouldn't bother her what he thought, especially after all his crude insults – but for some infuriating reason Nasuada wanted him to know that gaining his trust to convince him to release his secrets had not been her intention.  
To her horror she realized, that even after everything he had said, she still felt sorry for him. No one should have to surrender himself to the mercy of the two cruel magicians or lose his freedom as a consequence. Nasuada understood that her fathers hands were bound in this issue, but that didn't stop her from deeming Murtagh's predicament as an injustice. 

She reached her destination still pondering the whole thing, but hastily put her thoughts aside as she entered the hort. Tingling agitation was returning as she looked around the giant nest, that seemed frustratingly empty. 

Just as she wanted to retreat for a long march back she spotted the beautiful and fierce head of the blue dragon mustering her from one of the bigger sleeping holes.  
For a moment she was to awed by it's strange breathtaking appearance to utter a word, but she caught herself as the dragon started blinking at her inquiringly. 

“Saphira Silverscale, it is an honer to finally meet you I have waited a lifetime to lay eyes on a creature as magnificent as you.” The dragon blinked again, seeming appeased. So it was true what she had read about dragons a flattery. Good to know. 

“I am here to deliver a message to Eragon, were might I find him ?” she asked, fearing that the dragon might become impatient, if she dwelled to long. Saphira only mustered her somewhat amused.  
“Is he here?” she repeated her question, but that only seemed to entertain the dragon more. Nasuada furrowed her brow, as she was startled by a voice behind her:  
“I am right here”, the boy said, looking well rested end less shy, than he had seemed to days ago – being greeted by the entire Varden and dwarf community. He had warm, sweet looking features, but there were already lines edged into his young face that mirrored the heavy responsibly on his shoulders. 

“Eragon Dragonrider. My name is Nasuada” she introduced herself with curtsy, carefully gauging the boy's surprised reaction to that show of respect. One would think that he would grown accustomed to that sort of behaviour but it seemed to make him weary at best. Interesting. ”I am here with a message from my father.” 

He raised his eyebrows clearly not having expected her to be a person of rang. She stayed for a little while chatting with him, stealing admiring glances at the dragon but she left them with Ajihad's scroll as soon as politeness demanded it. 

Before they parted, she told the boy that Ajihad had permitted him to visit Murtagh, and that he probably should. She didn't owe the man anything, but she still felt like wary about the injustice that was happening to him. His friend should at least be able to comfort him. 

When she walked back to the town she thought about Eragon and the impression he had made. He seemed kind and modest, but under normal circumstance Nasuada wouldn’t spare him a second thought. He was still nothing but a farmers son that – for some strange reason – was bonded with one of the most powerful creatures in the whole of Alagaësia.


	3. Mutal Distrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heelllo, back again years later! This is the next chapter, hope you'll enjoy it. xx

_Wind was blowing threw Murtagh's hair as his horse bolted over the endless grassland. As he wanted to hold on tighter, he realized that Tornac's mane had turned into scaled horns and he was growing, spreading his majestic wings and raised up into the sky. Murtagh was flying on the back of a dragon, laughing like a child in joy over his freedom. They got closer and closer to the sun. He opened his arms in elation, when he noticed the shackles restraining both his wrists. Just as he realized they were there, he was pulled of the dragons back, yanked back to the ground – into a dark hole. He was trapped. When he tried to climb the walls, he slipped. He screamed fiercely for the dragon, he screamed sadly for his old teacher, he even screamed for the boy – Eragon – to come help him. But none did._

_“Don't despair Murtagh, I brought you something to read”, a familiar voice said soothingly, making him even angrier._   
_“How will I read, without light – you lying hag ?” he screamed into the darkness.Nasuada only laughed, bright and careless. It sounded like the sunshine he was missing so desperately._

   
He was awoken by two curt knocks. The door opened, shortly after he hastily threw over his kilt and stood up from the bed. His vivid dream was still burning in his bones but he pushed it aside, bracing himself for whoever was to come.

The leader of the Varden entered his cell with proud steps, while his daughter was straying behind him looking everywhere but at Murtagh. For a moment he feared she might have told her father about his outburst and he had come to cut of his hands or what ever vile punishment was the custom for insulting Nasuada. But Adjihad didn't seem vengeful at all, he hadn't even brought a weapon. He was just inspecting the room with his mildly surprised risen brows.

“I hope we aren’t interrupting you.” Adjihad said, calm eyes still wandering over his prisoners appearance and the state destruction around him.

“Not much that I could be doing, for you to interrupt.” Murtagh shot back viciously. The man wasn't fazed in the slightest.

“Well, I see someone send you a lot of reading material. I wonder who would have been able to do so, considering I permitted any contact, before we didn't have a chance to talk,” Adjihad said as he strolled over to the mess on the table. Murtagh was confused. Had Nasuada not been following her fathers orders after all ? Had she sneaked both herself and the scrolls in ? He could have sworn Adjihad was smirking a bit, when he picked up the copy of A bard's mute canary.

“Whoever was clever enough to fool your guards, has a taste in literature that is very familiar to me”, he continued sounding strict and amused at the same time. Nasuada – who was also avoiding her fathers eye now – seemed to shrink a bit. Murtagh was very surprised by this turn of events. If Nasuada had acted behind her fathers back, she couldn't have been there in the service of the twins or Adjihad himself. And since she apparently did it secretly she couldn't even have hoped for an advantage from trying gain his trust. He realized, that curiosity had truly been her only crime and her attempt to apologize with the scrolls must have been genuine regret. And just like that, he was swallowed by a wave of shame at how repelling he had treated her.

But he didn't have time to bath in his newfound sense of self loathing, because Adjihad schooled his expression into an earnest one, when he started talking again.

“It brings me no pleasure to keep you here, Murtagh. Eragon told me about everything you did for him and Saphira and I personally wish to release you. But I always have to think of my people first, and unfortunately that makes your case that much more difficult.” Something about Adjihad's blunt calmness made Murtagh's anger deflate. He understood that the leader of the Varden was in a complicated situation because of him. His friendship with Eragon and the hate his people must feel for Morzan making a decision in both into either direction almost impossible. But Murtagh didn't have a choice either. There wasn't much that was sacred to him, but he'd rather give up his freedom than the reign over his own mind, the only place that was truly his and always had been.

“I understand.” He answered after a while, sounding just as resigned as he felt. “But I can't and won't allow anyone to look into my mind.”

“Very well. This is your decision, I will not have the twins attempt enter your head forcefully. But – I wish you would reconsider. With their confirmation that you have no harmful intentions, I would be able to ensure your safe departure from this city.” “Looks like I will have to enjoy the pleasure of your hospitality for a little longer.” Murtagh said, letting himself fall back on the bed, fluffing the pillow to underlining, that he was getting very comfortable.

Adjihad gave him a regretful smile, but it didn't look like he was going to keep trying to convince him. Murtagh could see why Adjihad was a great leader. He radiated fatherly benevolence and absolute authority at the same time. When he had lived in palace, he had feared the kings wrath, envied his power and ultimately despised him. And even though Adjihad was not holding him any less prisoner than Galbatorix had – he felt no such hate for him. On the contrary: if the situation were different, Murtagh would probably admire him. He didn't realize he had been worried about Eragon being caught in web of power hungry hyenas now that they had reached the Varden. The boy was going to be great warrior, but he was astonishingly naïve a times. Of course he had a giant dragon to protect him from his own stupidity, not to forget that Saphira was also a very wise creature. Still – they were both so young and had no idea what political and strategic value they possessed. Murtagh was glad Adjihad appeared to be a man of honor, having the support of someone like that was going to make the boys life a little bit less dangerous.

“I see that I won't change your mind today. However I am not willing to give up in this matter. Since my daughter has apparently taken an interest to you, it shall be her duty from now on to look in on you and she will be here, when you are ready to cooperate.” Judging from Nasuada's expression she wasn't happy about her new task. Murtagh could only agree with her. Even though he was now aware that he had judged her intentions wrong, she still had a very weird effect on him and he didn't really want to see her. There was something about her pretty face and knowing eyes that made him uncomfortable. He had disliked it from the moment they met, and know she was even hunting his dreams. Nasuada folded with a little bow of her head.

“Good.” Adjihad said, registering his daughters discontent without commenting.

“I shall be on my way now, my day is long from over. I am hoping our next conversation will have a more pleasant outcome, Murtagh.” And with that he turned around. They silently watched Adjihad leave, but as soon as the door clicked shut, Nasuada stirred alive, walking over to the table. With a stony expression she grabbed the book that her father had carefully placed there again. Without a word she was already making to exit as well, but Murtagh stepped forward blocking her way. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do – but he knew that he couldn't let her leave again, not without having at least admitted that he had acted rudely. It was a weird want to apologize, he had never really felt it before, but it was like an itch that needed scratching.

“Wait-”, he said holding up his hands as if to push her back, if she didn't stop. Not sure how to continue he hesitated, giving her time to bestow him with a disdainful eye. “Don't worry, Morzansson. I won't bother you, you already made it clear that you aren’t going to change your mind, so why would I waste my time with trying to help you out of this predicament, when you have nothing but crude, offensive words for me. Goodbye.”

“No, no. That wasn't what I was-... I wanted to apologize.” She looked stunned. It was mildly insulting that she apparently thought he wasn't able to utter that sentence. Well, seeing as he was surprised himself, maybe it was understandable.

“Oh.” She said, looking a bit wary. “I – you have to understand – … No matter how much you hate me or my father – the respect you are being treated with should go both ways, I won't allow you to insult me like that again.”

“I won't. It was rude and uncalled for. I was just-...so, well frustrated. Being looked in here after only a short taste of freedom. I-”, he interrupted himself before he could babble more, surprised and ashamed of his sudden need to talk. She wasn't his friend. He shouldn't confide in her.

Murtagh turned away, trying to escape her sharp stare. Nasuada didn't push him. “I guess I will see you soon than. Do you maybe need anything that I could let them bring you to make your stay here a little less dreary ?”

“No.” He said curtly and she raised her brows. “Maybe some liquor”, he joked and before he could stop himself he added. ”And a visit from you, will suffice to keep me entertain me. I am looking forward to your knew persuasion tactics.” He half expected her to be insulted by his sudden cheekiness, but she just smiled with a mischievous glim lighting up her beautiful features.

“Just you wait.” She said and with that she left him behind.

He waited six meals, brought by a shy maid, and two long sleeping periods, but nothing happened. Nasuada didn't return. He had started to read through the scrolls she had brought him. At first it had seemed like she had just grabbed the first things that fell into her hand and he had feared he would have to read the tax reports of the dwarf kingdom for eternity, but Nasuada had clearly chosen the stories with care since each one was more fascinating than the other. Murtagh became more and more enraptured with her favorite writings and devoured most of the scrolls with a hunger that wasn't only due to his boredom.

On the third morning of his reading extravaganza, he heard noise in front of his door. He was startled by the rush of excitement that came over him at the thought of telling Nasuada about the already read stories and what he thought of them only to hear why she liked them. Even more surprising was the sting of disappointment, when Eragon walked through his door. He pushed the feeling aside, bewildered. He was glad to see his friend of course and he should prefer him to a strange women that was nothing but his enemy. What was he even thinking, looking forward to telling him his feedback like a little child thirsty for appreciation just because the had the same preferences in literature. It was pathetic, thats what it was.

“Eragon!” He exclaimed finally joyful at the sight of the boy.“I was hoping you would come and visit me some time.” He seemed confused looking around in the little chamber that must seem very cosy with all the scrolls, blankets and candles they had brought him.

“I thought you were- well I thought they'd thrown you-...” he stammered, and Murtagh laughed at his unease. “You thought I was sitting in some dark whole, gnawing dry bread ?” he asked still amused, when the abashed look in Eragon's eyes confirmed.

“To be honest that's what I expected as well, but it seems as long as I don't cause trouble they are trying to make me comfortable. And the worst thing is – it's kind of working. I will probably get old and fat in here.” He laughed again, this time with bitterness.

“Don't say that. I will find a way to get you out of here, after all it was me who got you into this mess in the first place.” Eragon promised, but he didn't really believe it.

They talked for a while, Murtagh made Eragon tell him everything that had happened since they had parted ways again being overwhelmed by that stupid sense of responsibility for the boy that had gotten him captured. He warned him of the twins and told him to be careful and suspicious of everyone in the city because no one could be trusted. Not even that friendly dwarf Orik.

“You have to question everything these people tell you. They always have an agenda. You are a powerful political figure here and I don't want you getting the pawn of some intrigue. Listen to Saphira and don't let them use you.” He warned him urgently. Tornac had done it for him ,when he come Uru'baen and without those words, he would have been pushed around like a puppet. In Eragons case the situation was even worse.

“I won't,” the boy promised. “But I have the feeling Ajihad is a man of honer. He was a friend of Brom's and it was his daughter who told me to come here and visit you. She even gave me the directions and revealed the pass code that would get me past the guards. Not everyone here is an evil schemer like at the king's court.”

Of course it had been Nasuada. She probably even acted against her fathers orders again. That women was even more dubious, than he had though in the beginning. Everything she did seemed to have agenda. Sending him scrolls, sending him Eragon.

“Do not completely trust Ajihad or his daughter. Especially not her. Don't let her pretty face fool you, she is smart and cunning and I don't know he objective.” He said, maybe a bit vigorous and not solely aimed at Eragon. He had to remind himself.

After a long conversation, the boy went to go back to training and left Murtagh alone with his thoughts once again.

Hours later, when his guards were already snoring so loud he could hear them trough the thick wooden door, Murtagh still lay awake pondering his conversation with the young dragon rider. He had grown alarmingly fond of the boy and after everything he had sacrificed – including his freedom – to get him to safety he was wondering if bringing him to Varden may have been a mistake. Sure there were none of the kings soldiers after him anymore, but Murtagh had let him walk straight into a pit of snakes. He wasn't sure if Eragon was going to be able to make it here without being torn apart by intrigues over power and might. The only thing that comforted him was the thought, that Saphira was always with him. She was fierce and wise in way humans weren’t. Also – one had to have quite the stomach messing with a dragon.

She wasn't going to Eragon alone, her loyalty and love for the naïve, bumbling idiot was astonishing and had made something inside of Murtagh sting with unwanted jealousy whenever he had witnessed it. He was thinking about the way the two of them shared there thoughts and secrets with uncompromising trust and suddenly he felt lonely. Yes – his mind was an unconquered fortress and he was proud and grateful, to be able to hold up his control even against the iron attack of the twins – but he was wondering what it would feel like to confide in someone, to love a creature so completely that he would open his mind without hesitation to them. It was a scary thought, but the more he contemplated it, the more he felt himself yearn for a companion like Saphira. Someone he could turn his back to without fearing the would stick a knife in it, the first chance they got. Morzan had taught his son this lesson, when he had gave him the long scar, that still marked the fathers rage, from his neck to his lower rear. His teacher Tornac had meant the world to him and had died helping him escape the claws of the king and Eragon had become a fighting companion that Murtagh appreciated very much, even he didn't like to admit it. But growing up in his fathers castle and later the kings court had made him paranoid, suspicious of everyones bad intentions.

He could never form a bond like the one Eragon and Saphira had, and for the first time in his life that loss made him sad. Just as his self pity had reached it's peak – there was a curt, little knock on the door.

At first he thought he had imagined it, or one of his sleeping guards had accidentally made the noise, but then it knocked again a little firmer.

“Yes,” he cawed, voice rough from the long silence. With some effort the door was pushed open and the thin figure of Nasuada entered the room.

“I hope I didn't wake you”, she whispered.

“No not at all, I was just sitting around. Kind of a boring imprisonment.” he said, feeling happier to see her than he should. “I'm starting to miss torture or similar prisoner activities to keep me busy.”

She laughed, in a very untypical way. Something about her was off. “Good, because he brought you something, to pass the time” she said as she closed the door behind her. Immediately after she had done it, there seemed to be a look of regret on her face. With the guards outside sleeping, there was no one to let her back out again and she was trapped I here for an unclear span of time. But then she just shrugged and came closer.

Her steps weren't as firm and precise as usual, if he hadn't known any better he would say she was swaying a little under he long gown. No that she had entered the circle of light around the oil lamp on his beside table, he could see that her dark cheeks were a little more rosy than he had ever seen and her eyes were somewhat glassy. And then it hit him.

“You are drunk.” He concluded, his voice drenched in disbelief. The daughter of the Vardenleader squared her shoulders and scorned him with a stern but a little hazy scowl.

“I am most certainty not. I had one glass of met yes, but that is barley enough to get one dwarf in a good mood.” she said, obviously aiming for condescending but not quite hitting it. Murtagh passed on pointing out to her that a dwarf warrior was probably able to drink ten jugs of met without getting in a good mood, but she clearly didn’t have the same tolerance.

“I was keeping my friend Orik – you have already met him – company at one of his gambling evenings. But it got kind of disgruntling, because I don't stand a chance against the dwarfs in the stone games. So I thought I would stop buy and bring you this, before withdrawing to my chambers.” She was holding up a small sliver flask, smiling winningly at him. She had brought him liquor. He couldn't resist a smirk.

“Orik gave this to me – but I still have enough wits not to drink that by myself. But it would have been rude to decline and a waste to let it just lay around in my room for my maiden to find. So I thought it might cheer you up.” Murtagh to the flask eying her curiously. She didn't seem to plan anything, clearly being a little to tipsy to plot against him. He realised he was being a bit of hypocrite especially after his word about her to Eragon, but he wasn't exactly averse to see her.

“Thank you.” He said, truly grateful about the distraction of a little alcohol from his grim thoughts in the dark. The present might be a plot, but similar to the scrolls it was a most welcome one. “But you know, you can't let me drink this on my lonesome either. Even I couldn’t stomach the whole thing, not to mention the cruelty of denying a drinking man his company.” He tapped on the mattress next to him, signalling her to sit down. She suddenly seemed hesitant though, maybe because the intimacy of the situation just dawned on her. She was not entirely sober in a dimly lit room with a prisoner sitting wearing nothing but light trousers and a thin sleeping gown. But Murtagh wasn't willing to let her leave again. He didn't only want drinking company and the distraction that followed, he also sensed a chance to finally be able to look through Nasuada's intentions.

“I don't think you have much of a choice anyway.” He continued quickly, not wanting to loose this opportunity to talk to Nasuada in inebriated state. “My guards a sleeping as soundly as to boars, there replacement only comes in a few hours. And without them you are just as stuck here as I am.” He grinned, grabbing the flask from her to take a big gulp from it. The dwarf whisky burned his thought but he didn't let it show on his face keeping his eyes steadily looked with her estimating ones.

“Fine.” She said sounding resigned. “You are probably right. I might as well get comfortable while I wait.” Nasuada sat down on the bed, but not on the spot next to him he had gestured her earlier, but a little further away keeping a better distance from him. Murtagh laughed at her. It seemed the tables had turned and now _she_ was distrustful of _his_ intentions. He hadn't even thought of it, but it was indeed a very unseemly situation for a lady to get drunk with a stranger on his bed.

Nonetheless she – or maybe the met she had already consumed – surprised him because she took a sip from the flask, a challenge shining in her dark eyes. He laughed again. This night had just taken a turn for the less gloomy.

 

 Nasuada felt more relaxed than she had in quite some time, although deep down she knew she was going to regret the events of the night. She had finally accepted Orik's offer to come gamble with his friends and Nasuada had experienced a pleasant evening with the dwarfs. As always she had enjoyed Orik's company and rugged jokes very much. Growing up in a dwarf capitol had made her value their rough and sometimes odd behavior and their celebrations were usually a blast. But something had been off and after had excused herself, she had suddenly thought of Murtagh and his liquor joke.

Her hazy mind had convinced it was a good idea to go down and bring him some. She hadn't even minded much that she locked herself in with him and some time later she was somehow tangled up in a pleasant, if not a little drunk, conversation with him. They were both clearly trying to avoid touchy subjects like politics, freedom, too not spook the other and therefore they had been talking in trifle and meaningless anecdotes for a while, but Nasuada didn't mind. Maybe it was the whiskey or maybe Murtagh was just a surprisingly charming conversationalist, but the trivial nature of their chit chat didn't make it boring to her. On the contrary, she was laughing almost the whole time.

“Eragon told me that you were the one, that send him here”, Murtagh said after taking the last sip from the flask. He drunken most of it, proofing to be quite gallant and not letting her have more than she could handle. It surprised her that he broad it up, they were bordering dangerously on not so harmless laking territory now.

“Yes, well. I figured you would be glad to see him, and my father permitted me to reign over your stay here – so...” she said. Truthfully she hadn't thought much, when she had said Eragon he might go visit. It had been more an impulse than anything, but Murtagh was considering her with a long look.

“You realize of course that none of these gestures – the liqueur, the scrolls, even Eragon are persuading me in any way to open my mind. If anything, they make me more suspicious of your intentions.” He said, but his features were soft and Nasuada didn't feel like he was trying to make her back away.

“I don't care what you think. None of them were meant to manipulate you. If you don't want to trust me – it's fine.” She laughed. “I don't trust you either. So we are square.”

“Why not, me lady,” he squealed, holding his chest dramatically mocking her by pretending to be hurt. “I swear I don't have any bad intentions!” he exclaimed but with the most devious glint in his eyes. To her own horror she giggled at that.

“Yes, yes you are truly an outstanding fellow, getting a lady drunk and to clumsily twist her around your finger!” She joked, but her words seemed to challenge Murtagh.

“With all due respect, but if I would have tried to seduce you, there would be nothing clumsy about it.” He said earnestly, but she only giggled on, her hazy mind not latching onto the changed atmosphere. Suddenly he was sitting closer then before, his bright eyes shine right into her still laughing face. When he spoke again, his voice was soft like velvet, yet growling and rougher then ever before.

“Do not underestimate me Nasuada.” He said, one of his long finger lifted in front of her face like a warning signal, but then he bowed it so it almost stroked her cheek. She felt them heat up under the hint of his touch. “I could tear you apart and make you mine, if I wanted and I don't think you would be able to resist.”

Nasuada knew it was the alcohol talking out if him, and she knew it was the alcohol in her that made her insides churn with lust. It was hard to keep a straight face when she leaned a bit back and said: “Careful Murtagh, you might be the one out of the two of us, who is more endangered to loose control.”

“You could be right, but I guess we will never find out, since I wouldn't want to try to seduce you and bring us both in an uncomfortable situation.” He said smiling carelessly again, lifting the thick veil of tension that had build between them. But it left Nasuada tired and at least a bit sobered up.

“I should try to wake the guards and leave you to your rest.” She said attempting to stand up, but she stumbled over the edge of her long gown and would have fallen to the ground, if Murtagh hadn't caught her with strong hands around her waist.

“Maybe you should to stay and sleep here, instead of having to stumble through the whole town” he said softly. She hesitated. “I promise I won't touch you unseemly,” he said letting go of her waist – as if to proof himself. “I'd be more worried about you making your way though Tronjheim drunk and without a guard this time of the night.”

He did have a point, and while Nasuada couldn't trust him or herself around him in their state, she felt to tired to fight her way back and concluded it was smarter to stay. When she laid down on the bed, as far away from Murtagh as possible he heard him chuckle, but he respected the space between them and held his word. After a short while of silently laying next to each other, here tiredness closed her heavy lids and his calm breathing soothed her into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I'll try to finish the fourth chapter a bit faster next time, feel free to comment and tell me what you thought!! With this chapter I followed the original story line of the german ff I wrote a couple years ago and now I am back on track and looking forward to translating the rest. xx


	4. An Issue of Consequence

AN ISSUE OF CONSEQUENCE

Murtagh woke up alone, but it was as if he could still feel the warmth of Nasuada's body next to his and hear her soft breathing.

She had shifted in the middle of the night, so that the space between them had vanished and her back had been pressed to his chest. He hadn't dared to move, in order not to wake her up. Still the beguiling scent of her hair had tingled in his nose in the most welcome way so that it had been difficult for him to fall asleep again.

But now she was gone and it was probably for the better. After the events of the las night, there was no denying that Murtagh was as attracted to her, as he was fascinated with Nasuada.This horrible knowledge struck him, while he washed his trembling hands and his dully aching head in the bathing nook. He could only hope that she didn't suspect him of growing fond, that would be a disaster of unspeakable consequence.

Just as he had to pray that Nasuada didn't tell her father that he had persuaded her to get drunk and than spend the night in his bed. Even though it had been technically her doing, he was sure that Ajihad would not be very reasonable, if he thought his daughters virtue threatened by Morzan's son. In the end, Murtagh knew that he could do nothing but wait for her to return. If she ever would. Than he had to try to minimize the damage.

It followed what felt like weeks, but was probably just days of solitude. Eragon visited once and told him all about his training and the she-elf Arya.

Murtagh didn't dare to ask him if he knew anything more about Nasuada, or if she had said anything to her father – since he didn't want his friend getting suspicious of the mixed feeling he was having for Ajihad's daughter.

It seemed as if she had managed to make him overcome his suspicious of her intentions all in one drunken night. And even though he had told her, that her tactics had been fruitless it had been a lie. After hours of careless talking and looking into her bright eyes as they sparkled with amusement, something in his stance towards her had changed. He didn't remember the last time he had been so relaxed around someone. Somehow, even though the rational part of his mind was loudly protesting, he had convinced himself that they shared some common ground and there was no reason to mistrust her. Even though there were clearly plenty. Alcohol could't erase the fact, that she was technically his enemy.

But as he finally heard her gentle knocking on his door, it was hard to remember that. Nasuada entered with a carefully crafted neutral expression. She was very well aware of the circumstances of their last meeting and was now trying to save face. She was more successful than Murtagh, who couldn't fight a bright smile at her sight.

“I thought you might never return.” He said, unable to hide his relive.

She crossed her arms, shooting him a grim look. “And it would have been smarter not too. We should not have become so familiar that night. While I think the circumstances of your imprisonment are unfair, you are still a prisoner and I a lady of rank. We are not friends, or anything else.” She took a deep breath, but didn't let him interrupt, “I know it was my mistake to come here at night, and blur the lines.”

“Why are you here now, then ?” Murtagh asked, crossing his arms as well.

“I want to continue visiting you in an appropriate manner. Therefore you must forget all about the incident.” Her last sentence was an order.

Something about they way she condescendingly instructed him to forget about her own moment of weakness, rubbed him the wrong way. He stepped closer and the she, probably realizing his intentions of not following orders, walked backwards.

“But how could I forget, about your sweet attempts to huddle up against me, my lady ?” he asked her, his tone mocking. His provocation made her gaze light up with very satisfying rage.

“Do not continue speaking.” She seethed, not able to control her emotions. Murtagh knew that he was playing with fire, but he felt bold and vengeful that he had been so helplessly waiting, only to be looked down at by her.

“Oh, what will you do if I don't oblige ?” He smirked, “make a pass at me ?”

He could practically feel her face heating up, waves of anger emitting from her. She pushed him back very forcefully, but naturally Murtagh didn't budge an inch. They were glaring at each other so long, it made Murtagh's head feel light and dizzy.

But than she everted her eyes, and when she fixed him again, the rage had disappeared and was replaced by a resigned look.

“You are not making it very easy for me, too still want to visit you.”

He was shocked, suddenly afraid he had pushed her to far and she wouldn't return. Leaving him to brood alone, forever.

He stepped back, air rushing back into his brain. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You are right, there are lines we shouldn't cross, and I just did. Please forgive me.” He said, surprised by his own earnest voice. He was getting better at apologizing. That was a first.

Nasuada seemed astonished as well, but she just raised an eyebrow and flattened her gowns, as if he had ruffled them with his proximity.

“Very well. Let us just forget about it and move on. You can expect to see me soon. In the meantime, I would like to rearrange your dinner options. Those plain meals they are sending you, are a disgrace. Do you have a preference ?”

He smiled at her formality. But didn't comment. “Yes. Meat. If there is any in this rock you people live in.”

She smiled as well. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

*****

 

Nasuada visited Murtagh as often as possible in the following two weeks. Something about his apparent fear of her not returning, that had made him become so shaken for a moment had moved her. She could only imagine how horrible it must be to be stuck in that small room, with no one to talk to.

Even the strongest man would break.

She felt responsibility to keep him sane, if not for feeling guilty, that it was her own father that locked him in. Therefore she crossed the mountain town almost every day to knock at his door and keep him company for a little while. Sometimes with gambling rocks, and once she even brought him a wooden stick to practice his sword fighting and keep in shape.

Murtagh had smiled at her, with that charming glint of mischief in his eyes, that she mostly tried to ignore but couldn't completely shake.

“Are you sure I am not going to slay you with this dangerous weapon ?” he smirked, pointing the dull-edged end of the stick at her chest.

“I'll take my chances.” She had deadpanned, but suppressing a smile.

Nasuada knew that she was walking on thin ice. She was laying awake at night, thinking about a stranger, a man she couldn't trust. And yet she didn't want to stop seeing him. Even though she had insisted that they should uphold a certain distance, she felt her walls crumble with every visit.

It wasn't helping that Murtagh seemed to feel the same way, seeing as he had become increasingly more open with her. Even revealing some of his past. He always talked very fondly of his old teacher, whose loss seemed to still plague him. Nasuada was captivated by his stories of the horrible surrounding Murtagh had endured as a kid, coming out of it the men he was.

As they both started talking about more serious and private topics, she should have taken a step back – but she didn't. She continued seeing him, as if she just couldn't stay away.

When she entered the little room on evening after a long day of running errands for her father, she had just planned to drop in for a quick chat. But as soon as she saw Murtagh pacing around in circles, barely noticing her, she knew something had changed.

“What happened ?” she asked carefully.

“Oh please, like you don't know.” He spat, not stoping his violent wandering.

“I don't understand.” Nasuada said honestly. Suddenly he was closing in on her. It was starting to become a bad habit, she thought, but didn't think it the right moment to criticize. She just walked backwards, until her back hit the door she had just come through. He went as far as to brace his arms against the wood, next to her head. She wanted to protest him being so close to her, but he didn't let her speak.

“You have already proven that I am a fool. Do not provoke me now.” He said almost softly, but his face was a stony mask. It made her stomach churn anxiously. “Murtagh, I don't know what you mean.” Nasuada said almost pleadingly, her eyes were burning. but she would rather die than show him how much his sudden coldness was hurting her.

She flinched as his fist crashed against the wood next to her ear.

“STOP LYING!” He screamed.

 

*****

 

As Murtagh looked in Nasuada's beautiful face, marred with fear for the first time, all his anger rushed out of him, leaving him empty. He knew she was liar, he knew she had been playing with him this whole time, but he still didn't have it in him to hurt her the way she would easily hurt him.

It was pathetic. Just as the twins had said.

They had come to his room that morning, coldly smiling at him out of their identical, snakelike faces. They said they had come to try to convince him once again, since all there other attempts seemed to have failed.

As Murtagh had asked what attempts they meant, they had very gleefully informed him that they had asked Nasuada to make nice with him.

“But it seems, that you are more resident to her beauty than we anticipated.” One of them had said, not sounding sad about that at all.

“While she has certainly manged to get into your good graces, she has yet to tell us anything interesting or make any progress convincing you to finally open your mind and clear your name,” the other on continued smugly, as if he knew that the revelation that Nasuada was working with them to trick him was painful to him.

And it had been. More than it should have. And now he could't even face her tears, even though they should feel like much deserved revenge for her betrayal.

“Don't cry.” He ordered her strictly.

“You wish I was.” Nasuada shoot back, even though there was another silver line crossing her dark cheek.

“The twins told me everything, you can stop the charade.” He said, trying not to let her know how effected he was.

“The twins ?” She asked startled. “What do they have to do with anything ?”

“I told you.” He said, finally getting his anger back at stubborn attempts to still pretend. “Stop lying. I know you worked with them from the beginning. I gotta say, you did a good job. You'll be great snake one day.” He spat, each word full of venom.

She tried to hit in the face, just as she had done once before, but this time he saw it coming and caught her hand, pressing against the door over her head. This movement pushed their bodies together. He could feel her erratic heartbeat against his own rips.

“You disappoint me”, she breathed, looking angry as well, “I thought you'd know better than to believe any of the twisted words these vultures say.”

“Even if they weren't telling the truth. This has gone to far.” He said bitterly, sudden doubt seeping through his bones.

“You're right.” Nasuada said, her eyes flying to his lips, their faces only centimeters apart. “This has gone to far, you should step back.”

But Murtagh didn't want to. His anger was gone, and had been replaced with the irrational want. Want to feel her against him.

“What if I don't ?” he whispered, his face moving a couple inches closer, so that their noses were almost touching and he could feel her jittery breath on his cheek.

“You should.” She whispered back, but there was no conviction behind it.

They crashed into each other. It felt as if to rocks falling against another, even though her lips were delicate and soft against his harsh mouth, willingly parting for him. One of his hands were digging into her locks, the other one still fixating her wrist against the door they were pressed against. She made a little moaning sound, as his teeth scraped against her upper lip, that almost made him loose all control. It felt like an eternity and yet so short, until she pushed her hands between their bodies and against his chest to gently divide them.

He took a step back, already missing the warmth of her. She was a mess. There were still traces of her tears across her face, her puffy lips were red and swollen and her eyes were glimmering feverishly. It made blood heat up, that it had been him that made her look this way. So much more beautiful than ever, so beautiful. He didn't want to let go of the moment yet, but Nasuada was retreating back into the room away from him.

He followed her, as if they were connected by threat.

“Why are you doing this ?” she asked, sounding breathless.

“Doing what ?”

“Why are telling me to leave and then begging me to stay. Why are you yelling at me, making me cry and than kiss me ? Why ?” Her voice got louder, laced with desperation.

He wanted to stroke her hair and calm her down. But he stayed were he was.

“You know why.”


	5. Fight Like A Man

FIGHT LIKE A MAN

 

Nasuada was petrified. She had been sitting in her bed for hours, the whole day.

He had kissed her. Right after insinuating, that she had been working with the twins. Which could only mean that they had planted that thought in his mind, to manipulate him. They were always trying to gain an advantage, and if they thought lying about an alliance with her would bring them one, surely they suspected something out f the ordinary was going on between Murtagh and Nasuada. And she simply couldn't allow them to have such suspicions. It was dangerous to let the twins have insight in secrets, especially such delicate ones.

Countless thoughts were raising through her head that day, most of which she tried to suppress, but that one she didn't. Something had to be done, too make sure they didn't have any prove for their theories. Theories that could potentially harm Nasuada. First, she had to eliminate any witnesses. The only way, the twins could know about her frequent visits, was by interrogating Murtagh's guards. They were very skilled in the way of extracting information from people, even without magic. Most of the Varden feared them, and the rest was corruptible. Nasuada had to make sure, they would never disclose any information again, not even to her father. But to surpass the twins, she would have to be very threatening. So she visited an old friend. The librarian. An old dwarf lady, that looked like a mossy stone with bright eyes. Nasuada had made friends with her as a child, and that had proven to be a smart move. Since the librarian, although she apparently never left the shadows of her impressive treasures, seemed to know everything about every one. And when threatening someone, it was always better to have some personal knowledge about them. Her mission was the only thing she let herself think about.

But sometimes, when she let her attention slip, her mind flew back to the way his lips had felt on hers – his hands, his body on hers. She shook her head, as if to swat the thoughts away like a bothering insect. Threatening the guards went very smoothly. The information the old librarian had given her was crucial, but Nasuada was still proud of her work. Finally, there was only one loose end left. And that was the one person she obsessively avoided thinking about. It had become clear to hear, that the visits to Murtagh's cell had to stop. Ignoring the dull ache in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again, she started walking towards her chambers. In the morning she was going to seek out her father and tell him, that she had been unable to convince his prisoner of opening his mind. And after that, she would just try to forget. Forget all the stolen hours she had spent in the small, cozy room, next to a men that she barely knew, yet somehow already missed.

But tonight she planned to indulge herself, just a little bit. All she wanted was to hide in her bed and think about Murtagh's low chuckling laugh, his bright eyes in the rare moments the veil of anger and mistrust that guarded them, had lifted. One night, she would allow herself to wallow in self pity at his loss. Nasuada had almost reached her chambers, when she collided with Jörmundur, her fathers military leader and most trusted advisor. The man was a bit out of breath, wearing his heavy armor looking, like he was in a hurry.

“What happened ?” Nasuada asked, alarmed. Jörmundur was of calm nature and leveled head, the only reason he would run, was to reach a fight.

“Didn't you receive your fathers scroll yet, child ?” He asked, bewildered already beginning to walk again. When she shook her head, he halted and returned. Softly he padded her arm, as if to comfort her. If anyone else had dared to do so, she would have harshly reprimanded them, but she had known Jörmundur for longer than she could remember and valued him as if he were her own kin.

“An army of Urgals are approaching, this city will become a battlefield in less than two days.” He said, and with that and a last concerned look for her, he continued rushing away. Nasuada briefly considered following him to her fathers war council and try to pick up more information, but as her feet started walking again – they were carrying her in a different direction.

She knew that there was only one place for her to be right now. When she knocked at his door, she felt herself shiver – if from fear or anticipation, was unclear to her. She threw the single guard a warning glance and entered. Murtagh was laying on his bed, crossed arms hiding his face. When she closed the door behind herself, he got up.

“Nasuada.” He said softly, as if he was afraid to startle her. There was a small smile hiding between his thin lips, that made her heart flutter involuntarily. She had to take a deep breath to be able to proceed with her carefully planned speech.

“Good evening, Murtagh.” She began, as formal as she could mange. His low words were still echoing in the back of her head. _You know why. You know why, you know why._ She did know. It had gone to far, it had become a dangerous secret, a weakness, a weakness she couldn't continue to allow – or else it would be exploited. But all that didn't matter now, it didn't. There was war knocking on the doors of her home. And the only person she wanted to see, was him.

“You have come to tell me, that it was an mistake.” He said calmly, approaching.

“I have come to tell you, that Galbatorix army of Urgals is going to attack Tronjheim. They will be here in less than two days. ” She wanted to mimic Jörmundurs collected tone and the way he had radiated determination, but her voice broke at the end of the second sentence, as she was overwhelmed with emotions she couldn't fully comprehend. Strange, she thought, that it was so difficult for her to hide her feelings in front of Murtagh. She had spent years perfecting the art of concealing her true state of mind in difficult situations, but Murtagh's presence alone made her crack up like a little girl scared of the dark.

Nasuada felt her hands tremble and stared at them in horror. He came closer, his eyes full of concern and unusual tenderness. Suddenly she couldn't fight the horrible images anymore, that the words of the military leader summoned. Her city on fire, the library destroyed, her devoted maid being dragged away on her thin white hair, her alone and father surrounded by horrible monsters, the door of Murtagh's cell run down – she had to turn away from him to hide her face. With the back to him, she managed to collect herself a little bit. But all that was washed away, as he softly placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back.

“Tell me what I can do”, his voice was quite and unreadable, as he stared stroking her arms comfortingly. She took a deep breath, that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle and tried to get a grip. “Nothing. I- I shouldn't have come here.”

“Nasuada”, Murtagh whispered, so close to her that she could feel his tingling breath on her neck, his nose brushing into her hair. She felt herself shiver, from how much she wanted him to embrace her, to never let go. Shocked by the intensity of her feelings, she backed away.

“I don't now why I-… this is wrong,” she stuttered feeling herself panic, but his face stayed calm.

“I don't think it is”, he just said and something in the collected way he spoke and the cautious way he came closer, made her tense up. He was up to something – sneaking up on her like a hunter would to an wild animal. Instinctive she held out her arm, with her palm facing towards him, as if to keep him at bay. “We shouldn't.”

“I suspected you would say that.” He shrugged, still suspiciously even tempered, stopping right in front of her defensively outstretched hand. “But I am sorry to have to tell you that I disagree and will have to convince you otherwise.” With that he smirked, callously pushing her hand away crowding into her personal space. Suddenly the air felt to heavy to breath and she lost control over the tingling sensation that rolled down her spine and took over her body.

“I cannot allow you to-...” she gasped, but he had already fixed his hands around her waist, softly digging into her. It made her want to give up and fall into his arms, to just forget for a while. To not care anymore, that they were breaking every rule. That her life as she knew it, was about to be overrun by the kings army. Murtagh lowered his head, his lips lightly touching her neck. “Can I kiss you ?” He whispered, still mouthing along her neck up to her jawline.

“Barzûl”, she hissed, the dwarf curse escaped – at a loss of anything else to say, before digging her fingers into his dark hair pressing their lips together. It was as if she had been drowning without noticing it and now she was able to breath again for the first time since his mouth had left her gasping yesterday. He fumbled on the cords of her gown, one hand wrapped around her neck his mouth kissing the soft spot behind her ear, until he finally freed her of the thick garment so that she was now standing in front of him in nothing but her shift. She shivered as his hungry eyes roamed over her exposed legs and the imprint of her hard nipple, through the thin layer of fabric.

Nasuada was a lady of rank, which meant that she usually possessed enough restraint not to find herself in compromising situations like this. Of course she wasn't a priestess either. She had had a lover before. A gentle, sweet boy that she had met in secret, to spare him the wrath of her father, and that had sung to her with his melodious voice and made her giggle into his chest. But now, with Murtagh's demanding hands roaming over her body, kneading her waist, she couldn't even remember the boys face.

“I have to- I need you-...” his voice was rough and heavy as he pressed the both against the wall, fingertips scratching over her thigh closing in on her. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded, grabbing his hair and wrapping one of her legs around him.

A rush had taken over her and she was so caught up in him, him, him that she barley notice that her feet had left the ground completely, both her legs tangled around him. He carried her through the room until he carefully lowered her onto his mattress, his heavy body resting between her legs.

The small voice in the back of her head was still insisted that she was acting irrationally, forgetting all cation and common sense and that she should stop, before she made it even worse – but she couldn't care less. All she wanted was more. She wanted _so much_ , wanted all of him so badly – until every other thought was banished from her mind, every warning word had become a chant of his name.

*****

Murtagh pacing back and forth through the small room, that had become more restricting than ever. Waking up that morning, he had found himself alone, the only remembrance of Nasuada was her faint, lingering smell in his sheets and the pleasant ache in his bones. But she had left without even bothering to say goodbye and he knew that she wouldn't return. Not with an army of savages approaching her home.

Her wordless leaving made his lungs constrict. He cursed himself for that softness. _What did it matter, that she had left?_

Never before had it bothered him to wake up alone. On the contrary, back in the capitol, he would have relished if the women he bedded would have chosen to disappear this conveniently in the morning, without annoying him with endless requests of favors. But it hypocritical to pretend, Nasuada could be compared with those women in any way. They had been a flashy distraction, every one of them unable to hold his attention for longer than a night.

And even though Nasuada's presence alone managed to distract him from the reality of his imprisonment, she was more to him, more than he had ever felt for anyone – more than he liked to admit. It was only fitting his life, that the only women he ever wanted to stay in his arms, had snuck away from him, denying him the opportunity to hold her. He tried to pull his thoughts away from Nasuada's dismissal. There were more important things than his wounded pride, that had to be considered right now. She had come to him yesterday, with the message of war. And even though she had stayed for something else and effectively made him forget all about the approaching army, she was gone now – and the looming threat was back.

Murtagh was sure of only one thing, that he couldn't stay in this cell any longer.

 

“You requested to speak to me, Murtagh Morzansson ?” Ajihad said, barely looking up from the plans and scrolls that were covering his desk.

The last time Murtagh had been in the study of the Varden Leader, it had been by Eragon's side. And he had become a prisoner the moment he had opened his mouth. But this time, he planned to be walk free.

“Farthén Dur will be attacked.” He said calmly, watching the thick brows of the men before him contracting. His hard features looked nothing like his daughters. Murtagh quickly continued, without giving him the opportunity to ask for the source of his knowledge. “I wish to fight at the the side of your warriors. I am a skilled swordsmen, you can ask Eragon for confirmation. And I think you will need any help you can get.” Ajihad looked up, his grim expression broken up with the hint of a smile.

Their was something resembling mirth shining in his eyes. “Yes”, he slowly said in his dark voice, “yes, I think that can be arranged. You are smarter, than I thought. In this battle, you wont be able to do much more harm, even if you should defect to the enemy. And Galbatorix already knows the location of the dwarf capitol, so I don't have any reason to hold you any longer.” He scribbled a few word on a parchment and handed them to Murtagh.

“Go down to the armory with this, and ask for a dwarf called Tamrik. Show him this letter, and he will give you back your weapons. Than you can join Eragon and Saphira on the battlefield.” Ajihad said, and lowered his eyes back onto his maps.

Not planning on hanging around much longer, Murtagh walked backwards saying: “I thank y-”, when the heavy folding doors to the office flew open.

Accompanied by the protest of the guards outside, Nasuada came rushing in. She was wearing a war costume made of dark green, shimmering scales that was cut to look like a noble gown, yet parted between the legs, to make it easy to ride a horse or fight. Around her waist was a thin bejeweled dagger, attested to a girdle and her wild hair was tamed in a strict plait. One single lock had freed itself and was flying into her beautiful face, that was marred by fury. Murtagh stared at her appearance in shock. She was not going to fight, was she ? When she noticed him, it looked like she was startled for a second, but she quickly caught herself and strutted over to her fathers desk without taking any further notice of him. She smacked down a scroll with a broken seal in front of Ajihad.

“What is this supposed to mean ?” She seethed. The leader of the Varden didn't flinch.

“Nasuada”, he said more composed than ever, “You cannot simply barge in like this. As I have told you many times. And everything you need to know to understand, is already written down – I thought I had formulated my wishes quite clearly in this.” He pointed at the scroll. Nasuada hissed, reminding Murtagh of a green snake, ready to strike.

“I mean the part, were I am forbidden partake in the battle and ordered to flee with the rest the elders, wounded and broads. You are aware that I am not a child anymore, father. I can fight! I want to fight!” Relief ran through Murtagh. Ajihad was going to force her into safety.

“Nasuada!” The Varden Leader rumbled, all calm leaving him. “I command you as your General and Father. Should you defy this direct order, are are nothing but an oathbreaker. Leave Tronjheim with the women and children today!” They stared at each other, both wearing stony masks of anger and suddenly, Murtagh did see a likeness between father and daughter.

Than Nasuada snorted: “Fine.” Turned on her heel, and stormed off.

“You may leave as well.” Ajihad said to Murtagh, his voice not showing any trace of his previous rage and his eyes back on his strategies. Hastily Murtagh hurried after Nasuada, catching at the end of the next tunnel, grabbing her arm.

“What ?” She hissed, trying to free herself.

“Why so beastly, I didn't do anything.” He grinned, unable to hide his joy at her leaving Tronjheim.

“Let me go, I am in a hurry.” She just said, still pulling. That made him halt.

“Hurry ? Were are you hurrying to ?” He asked, suspicions growing.

“To my chambers, to get ready to flee this city as I was ordered to.” She lied without blinking – but a defiant glint on cheeks gave her away. “No.” He said, gritting his teeth and increasing his holt on her wrist, dragging her closer.

“No. You're lying. You're still trying to fight.”

 _“So what ?”_ It burst out of her, but her eyes were cold. “You are not going to stop me.” He gripped her so hard, that she made a little pained noise.

“You. Will. Not. Fight.” He barley recognized his own voice, blood bumping in his ears. Nasuada tried to free herself with all her power, but her efforts were almost ridiculous against his iron grip.

“Hypocrite!” She spat at him. “I know why you were with my father, you want to fight yourself. Yet you have the impertinence to try an stop me! He tried to calm himself, before speaking, trying to sound as reasonable as possible, so she would understand.

“I am a warrior. _I was trained for this_. My lady, you have to leave before it is to late.” Her lips thinned, and for a second he thought she was going to hit him again.

“Don't call me a lady, as if it were an insult, Murtagh. You cannot force me to leave my home behind. Now let me go.”

“After you have sworn, that you will not be so foolish to fight.” He insisted.

“Why do you care ?!” She hurled the words at him in anger, but the caught him by surprise. But the honesty in his answer shocked him even more.

“I don't want to loose you.” There was a strange shining in her eyes and she averted her glance. No that he had started telling the truth, it was hard to hold it back. “The though of you falling in that battle, is unbearable to me.” All anger had vanquished form his tone, replaced by a plea. “Please, Nasuada.”

She came closer, so close that he could spot silver tears laced in her eyelashes. And pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, her voice nothing but a whisper. “And what about you ? What if you fall ?” He stroked her cheek, his hands trembled.

“We will see each other again, I promise. After the battle.” And suddenly he couldn't bare it for another second, to hold her like this. If he didn't let go now, he feared they would stay like this forever. It took all he had, but te turned and walked away as quickly as he could, but not so fast as to not hear something that almost sounded like a sob, behind him.

*****

Nasuada's costume jingled threateningly as she hasted up the stairs to her chambers. There were still tears running over her face, but no one around to see it, so she didn't bother to hide them. Had she just seen Murtagh for the last time ? He and her father wanted her to run and hide, as if she was defenseless. Murtagh wanted to know her save, yet he would not provide her with the same calm and join the battle. How was that fair ?

Farida, her maid, was startled at Nasuada's dissolved state.

“Mistress, what happened ?” She asked, hurrying towards her. “

Don't mind it.” Nasuada ordered. ”I need you to go down to the armory and get me an armor that his light and flexible. And something to cover my face.”

“But Mistress-”

“I will not tolerate objection, Farida. And do not talk to anyone, or tell them what you are doing. Do you understand ?”

“Yes, me lady.”

“Good, now go.” Nasuada watched the old women hurry away. After she had closed the door, Nasuada freed herself of the shimmering, scaled dress. It was to flashy and easily recognized. She rummaged through her chest for a while until she found what she was looking for. A pair of simple leather trousers and a scratchy smock of linen that she fixed around her waist with a plain belt. To complete it, she put on a pair of soft boots, that almost reached her knees. The clothes felt weird and constricting, yet oddly agile and protective.

Nasuada had never before worn trousers, but she had seen them on Aria many times, and if the elf choose the for fighting, they would do just fine. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror and barley recognized herself.

Murtagh was probably right about her being at disadvantage for not being trained as a warrior, but that didn't mean that she could not be of help. Nasuada wasn't a master of fighting with the sword, but she was a decent shot with bow and arrow. Probably better than most of the Varden, having had lessons in it since she was five. She was going to join the archers and fight for her people and not even Murtagh would stop her, although his concern had made her waver even more than her fathers orders. Nasuada still didn't understand what she felt towards him, and now wasn't the time to muse about it, yet she couldn't get herself to regret the last night.

She had gone to bed with him, and given herself completely. It was inappropriate and reckless of course, but she was glad that they had shared those moments. Especially now, that she wasn't sure about ever being reunited.

Her servant returned, deep lines of worry etched into her old face. In her hands she held a bundle. The armor she had brought, was passable. Nasuada slipped the chain mail over her head, that came with a leathern chest plate, that was easy to carry. She hid her mouth and nose under a thin veil, before fixing it with the helmet. Throwing over her bow, and fixing her dagger on the silver buckles of her belt, she turned around: “How do I look ?”

“Fearsome, my lady. But shouldn't you flee with the women and children ?”

“Yes.” Nasuada nodded, fixing her servant with an piercing stare. “And that is exactly what you will tell everyone that asks, that I did.”

“But-” she didn't get to protest any further, because Nasuada had already pulled her close, embracing her with clattering arms. “Be careful, Farida.”

“You too, my lady.” And with that, Nasuada had whirled around and left the room.

 

The Varden had build protective barriers all around the expanse of Farthén Dur, coverings the seemingly endless ground with soldiers, preparing. As Nasuada crossed the fields, she saw the long procession of women leaving the Tronjheim, and walking towards the tunnels that would bring them to the next dwarf city. They were her last chance, but Nasuada didn't hesitate. She turned her back on the fleeing Varden and let her eyes wander over the warriors.

Almost immediately, she spotted the Azure Dragon, now wearing a beautifully crafted dragon armor, that still couldn't compete with the magnificence of the beast. Nasuada smiled, as she found the heads of two men sitting next to her, apparently talking. Of course Murtagh had returned to his companions to fight at their side.

Determined to keep an eye on him, Nasuada positioned herself between the barricade of twenty archers, that were closest to the Dragon.

And than the waiting began, and it seemed as if it would never stop. Hours and hours of tense, motionless silence. But as the battle began, it was as loud as thunder. Urgals were breaking out of the ground, bolting into the formations of the Varden and caused a bloodbath, like she had never seen before and would never again forget. Nasuada could do nothing but react, but duck and breath and not think to much.

There was no way to keep track of anyone but herself, if she wanted to dodge death. She shoot one arrow after the other, injuring some of the invaders. She killed thirteen Urgals, before the barriers broke and she was flooded into the middle of the withering masses. She was slowly running out of arrows, so she began sticking her little dagger into every exposed piece of the enemy she could find. Protected by her height and small appearance, most of the monster didn't even see her, until it was to late. After what felt like an eternity, her arm had begun to tire, her lungs were burning and sweat was pouring into cuts in her side.

Nasuada stumbled over a body beneath her, falling down. She turned her head just in time, to see the onrushing poleaxe, that would split her in half. But it halted, and the Urgal that has swung it grimaced grotesquely, before the tip of a sword exited its chest. It fell and were it had stood, was Murtagh. He held himself upright, even though hours of fighting had taken a tool on his armor and self. He looked down at her, and she could see the growing horror in his face, as he recognized her eyes under the veil.

“Nasuada!” He bellowed over the noise of the battle around them, a vein on his temple pulsating. Under his livid expression, she wanted to shrink, but he pulled her up and pressed her onto his body with one arm, parrying a sword with other, perforating the attacker as if he was nothing but an inconvenience.

“What are you doing here?” He screamed into her ear, even though she was now merely centimeters away from him.

“You know what!” She yelled back, just as angry. He made a rather dangerous sounding growl and dragged her with him roughly. “Let me go, I can fight!”

He just laughed bitterly. “Yes I saw that. I cannot believe you.” They approached a rider, overcoming a injured Kul with much toil. Before he could tear away, Murtagh stopped him by forcing Nasuada to show her face.

“Give me your mare, I have to get Ajihad's daughter to safety!” He yelled up to him. The rider swung of the horse and disappeared into a combat without a word, while Murtagh hoisted her up, disregarding her attempts to free herself.

“Don't force me to knock you unconscious, love.” He snarled as he fixed her on the saddle in front of him with iron grip.

“I can look out for my self!” She spat. He laughed again, without any amusement. “Sure, and you were just on laying on the ground to relax! I am bringing you to your father.“

“No!” She struggled, but froze as another Kul got ready to attack them. Murtagh averted his first hit and than propelled the horse to get out of its reach. He drove it through the masses mercilessly, neither caring for friend or foe, even though Nasuada kept screaming out warning. They rode over to the other half of the field, were Ajihad had withdrawn from the fight in a protected area to strategize and coordinate. Again and again Murtagh made her show her face to the warriors, until the had advanced to the leader of the Varden.

“Nasuada” Ajihad wheezed his features freezing in shock. Murtagh grabbed her by the waist and dropped the still resisting women in front of him. It took her father a few moments to collect himself, than he said: “I will never forget this, Murtagh Morzansson. I am indebted to you. Now return to the fight.”

Murtagh hesitated, but relented. With a last angry, yet worried look back at Nasuada that she returned with a indignant glint in her dark eyes, he turned away.


End file.
